


All I Want For Christmas

by palominopup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Chef/Cas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 12:55:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8801608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup/pseuds/palominopup
Summary: Chef Castiel Novak doesn't screw around with employees. It's a rule.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StellaDupree](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaDupree/gifts).



> This is for StellaDupree just because.

 

 

Castiel stared down into the stainless steel skillet. The Amish butter from the farmers’ market was starting to sizzle. The fresh eggs sat in a basket next to the stove. Inside the oven, the sausage from the butcher on Illinois Street was staying warm.

The man upstairs in his bed would probably be hungry when he awoke. With a sigh, he got a bowl from the cabinet and cracked six eggs into it. He only used one hand. He was a professional, after all. He flung the shells into his compost bucket with deadly accuracy. Using a fork, he beat the eggs and poured them into the hot skillet.

He cocked his head at the noise from the second floor. His guest was awake. Castiel hoped he found the aspirin and the bottle of water on the nightstand. Castiel continued to push the eggs around until they were fluffy. He tossed in a bit of fresh parsley from his garden, added some black salt from Cyprus because it made a great presentation and ground up some peppercorns from the Malabar Coast over them.

Sensing the man’s presence behind him, Castiel gestured towards the coffeemaker. “There is cream in the fridge and sugar is in the blue canister. Castiel had already sat out another mug when he’d made his own cup.

“Thank you.” The baritone was more pleasing sober. There was a huskiness that he assumed came from the crowded, smoke-filled bar. It would probably wear off. “I…uhm…did we…”

“No,” Castiel’s reply was sharp. He wouldn’t ever take advantage of someone so obviously in need of drowning their sorrows.

“Oh…okay…I…uhm…who are you?”

“My name is Castiel Novak.”

“Holy shit. Great, Winchester…of all the people to get drunk and stupid in front of…” So, he knew who Castiel was.

“You weren’t stupid,” Castiel interrupted quietly. He plated their breakfast with the same flair he’d have done at his four star restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf.

“I’ll just call a cab and get out of your hair…no need to go through that much trouble.” Castiel turned and looked at the man for the first time since he’d entered the kitchen. He was holding a plate in each hand and his guest moaned softly. The corner of Castiel’s mouth came up in one of his rare smiles. The man was dressed in his clothes from last night, snug fitting jeans, a dark green Henley and black boots. Castiel imagined the leather jacket was still hanging on his bedroom door.

“No trouble. You need to eat. I have to leave by eight-thirty for my staff meeting at The Russian, I’ll drop you off at Lafitte’s on my way in. I’m going to assume your car is there.” Lafitte’s was a bar that was frequented by those in the restaurant business due to the fact that he stayed open long after their places closed.

“Yeah. Benny probably has my keys.” The burly Cajun had taken the younger man’s keys last night. Castiel was sitting at the bar. It was a slow night, being Sunday. The green-eyed Adonis was three sheets to the wind before the clock struck nine. Castiel told Benny he’d take care of the drunk. Now, Castiel knew his name was Winchester.

“He does.” Castiel pointed to a chair at the table he’d shipped home from France after his last visit. Winchester sat and eyed the plate before self-consciously picking up his fork. He played with it until Castiel began eating. The man ate with gusto and instead of being put off by his manners, Castiel’s lips twitched as he tried to hide another smile.

“So, we didn’t hook up…”

“No. I prefer my bedmates to be sober and consensual.”

“Yeah, I get that.” The silence lasted until Castiel finished his meal and stood up. Winchester was already done. He slid his chair back and moved to take Castiel’s plate. “Let me…least I can do, right?”

Castiel cocked his head and gave him the plate. “I have a dishwasher.” Castiel leaned against the counter and watched as Winchester loaded the dishes, wiped down the stove and cleaned up the coffeemaker. When he was done, he turned to face Castiel.

“Look, I feel kind of weird here. I got shit-faced last night and woke up in the bed of one of the city’s best known chefs. We didn’t fuck, so…” He held up his hands in a gesture of confusion.

“You were…sad,” Castiel said like that explained it all.

“Fuck, what did I say…” He grabbed the back of his neck and looked out the window at Castiel’s view of the bay. The water was choppy and dark, the sky above matched it. San Francisco in late December wasn’t for sissies.

“You told me about your mother’s death when you were very young and how your father drowned his sorrow in alcohol. Seeing that…growing up with that…I am surprised you drink to relieve your own demons.”

“You have no right to judge me,” Winchester snarled, glaring at Castiel. His chin was raised and now his hands were clinched into fists at his sides.

“I’m not judging. You also let me know you were very proud of your younger brother. I believe his name is Sam and he is an attorney here in San Francisco. You informed me that you got laid off from Gino’s and just wanted to do one thing right with your life.” Gino’s closed its door last week when the owner and namesake decided to quit the restaurant business, leaving his entire staff without jobs.

“Jeez, now you know I’m a pathetic loser.”

“To the contrary. You told me you went to culinary school, but quit before you could finish because your money ran out. So, you see, you’ve done one thing right.”

The bark of laughter held no mirth. “Right. Not finishing school is pretty high up there with great career moves.”

“No, the right thing was catching my attention. You will start at The Russian tomorrow. Dinner shift begins at three. You’ll start by bussing tables and washing dishes. After we close, I’ll see what you can do in the kitchen.”

Winchester stood in his kitchen, looking at Castiel like he’d grown another head. Maybe he had. Castiel was very particular about who he allowed in his kitchen. There was just something about this man. Something that made Castiel want to know him better. It wasn’t that he was beautiful. It wasn’t how the few tears had fallen when he’d talked about losing his mother. It wasn’t how he’d explained in a drunken slur how he’d worked three jobs to put his younger brother through law school. And it definitely wasn’t that Castiel would have given anything to have the man under him in his bed.

“Wait…what? You want to hire me? Me? Dude, you don’t know me. And my first impression had a lot to be desired. I was a blubbering drunk who couldn’t even remember if we’d fucked or not.” Dean stared at him incredulously. “And about that. Why was I in your bed? Did we sleep together? Doesn’t this place have guest rooms…it’s fucking big enough.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow waiting for the tirade to stop. When Winchester ran out of steam, Castiel spoke. “I’m a good judge of character. That should be enough. If we would have ‘fucked’, you would remember…” Winchester’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “…and though the house has four bedrooms, mine is the only one furnished right now. I just bought the house a few months ago. And yes, I did sleep next to you, but like I said, I want my lovers to be sober…awake would be preferable.” Castiel looked at the clock on the microwave. I have to shower and get dressed. Make yourself at home.”

“Dude, you are too fucking trusting. I could be an axe murderer or something…or rob you blind.”

Castiel turned in the doorway. “You didn’t have an axe on you, just a pocket knife.” Castiel knew that because he’d partially undressed the man. He’d left him in his jeans and socks, only after searching his pockets. The knife, wallet and cellphone, along with a handful of change were left on the nightstand with the aspirin.

Upstairs, he took his shower. Looking at his reflection, he decided to forego shaving. He dressed in jeans and a crisp Oxford shirt. His chef’s coat was in his locker at work. When he got to the top of the staircase, he saw Winchester was sitting on the floor by the front door. He looked up and watched Castiel descend.

“I have furniture,” Castiel said, indicating the living room to the left of the foyer.

“Except in the guest rooms,” Winchester said with a smirk that Castiel did not think was attractive.

Castiel noted the leather jacket across the man’s lap. So, he’d been upstairs to get it while Castiel was in the shower. Did he look into the bathroom? Castiel lived alone. No need to close doors. The large glass shower was visible if you stepped inside the bedroom. Maybe another time, Castiel would use that scenario to jerk off to.

“Are you ready?” He looked at his wrist and realized he'd forgotten his watch again.

“Sure.” Castiel couldn’t help but notice how Winchester’s eyes moved up and down his frame. There was blatant interest in his eyes. Castiel would have to curtail it. Winchester was going to be an employee. You don’t shit where you eat. At least Castiel didn't. Attraction or not, he couldn't touch him.

Putting his red Tahoe into reverse, Castiel backed out of the driveway. The radio, tuned to an easy listening channel, was playing Mariah Carey's All I Want For Christmas.

**_I don't want a lot for Christmas_ **  
**_There's just one thing I need_ **  
**_I don't care about the presents_ **  
**_Underneath the Christmas tree_ **

 Winchester sat silently, eyes facing the windshield. It wasn't until Castiel turned left onto Lombard that Winchester spoke. "Why are you doing this?"

 "This is the easiest way to Lafitte's." Castiel knew Winchester wasn't referring to his driving, but he didn't know how to answer him. Saying it was a gut instinct would make him look impetuous. Castiel Novak was a lot of things, but impetuous wasn't one of them.

 He could feel Winchester's eyes on him now. "I meant why are you giving me a job without even seeing a resume."

 Castiel turned on his blinker and made a left on Bay. The radio was now playing an instrumental of White Christmas. "Instinct, Winchester."

 "It's Dean." Dean. It suited him. Short hair, leather jacket, tight jeans. The proverbial bad boy.

 "When you come tomorrow, bring your resume," Castiel said, just as he was pulling up to Lafitte's. The bar wasn't open yet, but Benny would be there.

 After getting out of the SUV, Dean gave Castiel another searching look before walking to the entrance. Castiel waited until Dean's knock brought Benny to the door. The bar's proprietor gave Castiel a wave. Castiel returned it and put the Tahoe in drive.

 

***

 Castiel was going over the evening's menu with his sous chef, Meg, when Hannah, his hostess came into the kitchen. "Chef, there is a Dean Winchester out front. He says you hired him." Several pairs of eyes found him.

 "I wasn't aware we needed any help," Meg said, her hands going to rest on her hips. Meg liked to think she had more authority in the kitchen than was reality, but Castiel never called her on it.

 "Mr. Winchester will be a trainee." To Hannah, he said, "Send him back to my office." Castiel moved across the tiled floor and pushed open his door. The office was small, just a desk and a small loveseat Castiel had been known to sleep on after a long service. The radio in his office was playing the same Mariah Carey song he'd heard when he was driving Dean to Lafitte's. He wasn't sure why he remembered that.

**_I don't want a lot for Christmas_ **  
**_There's just one thing I need_ **  
**_I don't care about the presents_ **  
**_Underneath the Christmas tree_ **

 Again dressed in jeans and a Henley, as well as the same leather jacket that was probably to light for a winter in San Francisco, Dean stepped into Castiel's office. He held out a single sheet of paper. Castiel took it and read enough to know it was Dean's resume. He put in on his desk and gestured for Dean to sit.

 "I wasn't sure you'd show up."

 "I need a job," Dean said, his chin raising in a prideful way that Castiel couldn't help but respect.

 "I'll put you on the schedule and you'll fill in where needed. Like I said, you'll be bussing tables, helping the dishwasher, barbacking, and helping the front of the house close. Once you are done, I will expect a few more hours from you. We'll go through some simple sauces and prep work and if you have skills, you'll move up to working on the line. We'll see how it goes from there."

 Dean blinked at him from across his desk. "You haven't even read my resume."

 Castiel stood up and gave Dean a manila folder. "Fill out the application and tax forms. When you are done, come find me." Dean was still sitting with a dumbfounded look on his face when Castiel left him in the office.

 Meg cornered him near the grill. "What the fuck? Since when do you hire pretty boys you've had your fun with?"

 "I haven't slept with Dean. Nor do I plan to. He worked at Gino's and I'm giving him a chance."

 "What's he going to be doing?" Meg was pouting and it was unattractive on her. He knew she harbored feelings for him, but he had rules and sleeping with his staff was at the top of the list.

 "He'll be a floater, helping wherever he's needed. After the dinner service, I'll be seeing what he's got in the kitchen. I see potential. If I'm right, I'll move him to the line. We'll see what happens after that."

 "Whatever," Meg said in a huff. She stomped off. Castiel knew she'd cool down once the service started. Meg was nothing if not a professional.

 After the dining room was set up for the next day's service and the kitchen was spotless, Castiel gestured to Dean, who was hovering near the walk-in, hands deep in his pockets. "The wait staff said you were very helpful tonight. Thank you."

 "Thanks."

 Charlie, his head server and the one on shift to close tonight walked into the kitchen wearing her jaunty Santa hat. Castiel's front staff had uniforms. Black pants, black shoes and dark red shirts finished off with a black tie for both male and female employees. Santa hats were not part of his strict policy, but Charlie was special and he couldn't tell her no. "Night, Boss."

 "Goodnight, Charlie."

Dean threw up his hand and waved. "Night, Charlie. Thanks."

She gave him a beaming smile and threw up a Vulcan gesture. Once she retreated to the locker room, it was only Castiel, Meg and Dean left. "Goodnight, Meg. I'll see you tomorrow," Castiel said, dismissing her. Her eyes narrowed and he knew she was pissed. The door slammed behind her.

 "She doesn't like me," Dean said simply.

 "She doesn't like anyone," Castiel replied. He led the way to one of the prep stations and began pulling out ingredients. Over the next hour, he tested dean on various sauces. The younger man was good. When he tasted the Bechamel sauce, he nodded. "Very good, Dean. You can head home now."

 "Yeah, okay...thanks, Chef." Castiel waited until Dean was gone to begin stacking the dirty utensils and bowls. It was late and he wanted to get home, so he left them for tomorrow.

 In bed that night, Castiel thought of Dean. His eyes that held sorrow. The way he'd smiled and joked with the other staff. As his cock lengthened, Castiel groaned. He always wanted things he couldn't have.

 

***

 Two days before Christmas and Dean had been working at The Russian for almost two weeks. He fit in and was well liked. He worked hard and did whatever was asked of him without complaint, even when Meg asked him to do menial jobs the cleaning crew usually did. Castiel could have said something, but things between Dean and Meg weren't good and bitching to her might make it worse. Dean could hold his own.

 Dean was very good in the kitchen. He had great knife skills and even helped the pastry chef with desserts one night. His apple torte was amazing. Castiel found no fault in the man's work ethic or culinary skills. He was also falling for the man.

 Their eyes would meet and the searing heat between them would make Castiel's heart beat faster and his pants fit tighter. The occasional touches sent electrical charges through his veins.

 The kitchen staff was in a great mood and many were singing along to the carols playing on the sound system. The dining room would be closing early tonight for their annual Christmas party. Castiel had engaged Dean to help him with the food for the party. During their late night cooking classes, Castiel and Dean made the heavy hors d'oeuvres and they were stacked in the walk-in ready to be heated.

**_I don't want a lot for Christmas_ **  
**_There's just one thing I need_ **  
**_I don't care about the presents_ **  
**_Underneath the Christmas tree_ **

 There is was again, the same song Castiel had been hearing over and over. It was a reminder of his first real conversation with Dean. When he heard it, it triggered the scent of Dean's leather jacket. He would suddenly see Dean's face in the SUV, scattered with freckles that Castiel wanted to taste with his tongue. Huffing in frustration, Castiel wiped some stray sauce off a plate and passed it to Charlie. She was bobbing her head to the music, the ball on the end of her Santa hat flipping over her shoulder.

 As the dining room cleared, the din in the kitchen softened. Everyone was cleaning their stations. Dean was helping Harry get a jump on the dishes to be washed. Castiel stepped to the door and looked out the diamond shaped window. The diners were finishing up their coffee and desserts. The large Christmas tree near the entrance was glowing with tiny white lights and all the tables had a tiny poinsettia as a centerpiece.

 Charlie and the other servers were bustling about to make sure the diners didn't feel rushed to leave. She saw him and sent him a small grin. He pushed through the doors and stopped at the few inhabited tables to ask how their experience was. He took the time to chat with each person.

 At the front, by the hostess desk, the fireplace was burning merrily and a stocking for each employee was hung there. Castiel took the envelope out of his chef's coat and slid a gift card into each one. There were already several small gifts in them. Castiel's was pretty full. He shook his head. Each year, he told his staff not to spend their money on him, but each year he got gifts.

 When the final diner left and the front door was locked, the staff kicked it into high gear to get everything cleaned. Castiel pulled Dean aside. "Do you mind helping me with the food?"

 "Course not, Chef." Dean's grin was infectious. Charlie and Meg helped them plate the things that came out of the oven and Castiel sent a couple staff members to get the bar ready. He'd bought several cases of beer, wine and champagne.

 The piped classical music that usually filled the dining room was changed to upbeat Christmas music and soon the party was in full swing. Castiel stood to one side with a beer in his hand and watched indulgently as his trusted and much loved staff enjoyed themselves. Dean was standing with some of the wait staff, head thrown back in a hearty laugh. Charlie sidled up next to him. "Have you told him how you feel?"

 "What purpose would that serve, Charlie?" There was no use in pretending he didn't know what she was talking about. Charlie was intuitive.

 "He likes you too, you know?" Charlie didn't bother answering his question.

 "He sees me as a savior of sorts. That's all."

"Savior, my ass. Don't be dense, Castiel. Sure, he's grateful to you for giving him a job and a chance, but he looks at you like you look at him. There is a pool going on."

 "A pool? My staff is betting on...what...that I have sex with him?" Castiel was disappointed. His staff knew how he felt about that. He'd never slept with an employee. Never.

 "No, they are betting on when you will finally open your eyes and take what you need to make you happy." Castiel finally looked away from Dean and into Charlie's wistful expression.

 "I'm happy," he said with a frown.

"Sure. You're happy financially and professionally, but what about romantically?"

 He let his eyes go back to Dean, who was rooting around in a cooler for another beer. "I can't. He's an employee, Charlie."

 Charlie moved so she was between Castiel and his line of sight. She looked up at him and put a hand on his chest. "You're my boss and I love you, but I gotta tell you, that's a stupid rule."

 Meg picked that moment to join them. She handed Castiel a glass of champagne. He took it and set the almost empty beer on the bar. "I have a few ideas I want to run by you after the party." Castiel read between the lines and Charlie did too, by the roll of her eyes.

 "We'll go over them tomorrow, Meg. Tonight, we aren't going to discuss business." Castiel took a large gulp of the champagne and refused to meet Meg's eyes. Charlie took his hand in her tiny one and gave it a tug.

 "Come over here, I want to show you something." Castiel had no choice but to follow. A familiar song was playing.

**_I don't need to hang my stockings_ **  
**_There upon the fireplace_ **  
**_Santa Claus won't make me happy_ **  
**_With a toy on Christmas Day_ **

Charlie led him towards the small alcove where the fireplace burned. "Stay here. Don't move." Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but she was already heading for Dean. She pulled him aside and whispered something in his ear. Dean looked up and met Castiel's gaze. Something hot flashed in those beautiful green eyes. He started walking towards Castiel, his bowed legs striding confidently across the wooden floor of the dining room.

  _ **I just want you for my own**_  
_**More than you could ever know**_  
_**Make my wish come true**_  
_**All I want for Christmas is you...**_  
_**You baby**_

When Dean got close to him his confidence seemed to fail him. "Hiya, Chef. Uhm, Charlie..she told me to tell you to look up." Castiel tilted his head in confusion and then looked up. A small bunch of mistletoe hung suspended from the ceiling with a thin, red ribbon. Castiel looked back at Dean. "Hey, it's not that big of a deal..sorry if it made you uncomfortable.." He started to step back and Castiel knew Dean misread his expression.

**_I won't ask for much this Christmas_ **  
**_I won't even wish for snow (and I)_ **  
**_I'm just gonna keep on waiting_ **  
**_Underneath the mistletoe_ **

"Some rules are meant to be broken, Dean," he said softly as he took a fistful of Dean's shirt and pulled him close. His lips met Dean's and there was a whimper...a moan. Dean tasted of beer and the cherry tarts he'd insisted on making. Castiel could get drunk on the taste of Dean. The kiss deepened and the play of his tongue on Dean's made his cock harden. He wondered if Dean could feel it. He felt Dean's hands on his waist, pulling him closer. He broke the kiss to whisper, "I've wanted to do this for so long."

"Some things are worth waiting for," Dean murmured against his lips. Castiel became aware that the only sound he heard was the music.

**_I won't make a list and send it_ **  
**_To the north pole for Saint Nick_ **  
**_I won't even stay awake to_ **  
**_Hear those magic reindeer click_ **

 He broke apart from Dean and heard Dean's whine. His eyes met those of his entire staff. They were smiling and nudging each other. Charlie was holding a fistful of money and she winked at him.

**_'Cause I just want you here tonight_ **  
**_Holding on to me so tight_ **  
**_What more can I do_ **  
**_Baby all I want for Christmas is you_ **  
**_You Baby..._ **

"We'll continue this later," Castiel said and released Dean reluctantly.

"I'll hold you to that, Cas." It was the first time Dean had said his name and the way the shortened version rolled off his tongue made Castiel wonder if Dean had called it out in his bed at night, like the nights Castiel had shouted Dean's.

The party amped up again and soon, Kevin, one of his busboys, wearing an elf's hat, began giving out the gifts from under the tree. Castiel gave out the stockings and was pleased at the small tokens his staff gave him. There was a small, red-wrapped gift in the toe of the stocking and Castiel noted there was no tag on it to let him know who it was from. He tore off the paper and felt eyes on him. He looked up and saw Dean watching him intently. Slowly, Castiel removed the lid and nestled on a bed of white cotton was a bronze pocket watch with a braided leather fob. On the back were the words "One thing right."

Dean's face flushed pink. Castiel tucked it into his pocket.

Castiel was laughing at Charlie attempting to blow up her life-sized R2D2 a little later when Meg stepped in front of him. On top of the anger in her eyes, there was genuine pain in her expression. "I guess the better man won."

"There was never a contest, Meg. I'm sorry you're angry, but nothing could have ever happened between us."

"You could have told me you were..." She stopped.

"In love with him. Would it have made a difference?" She inhaled and looked away. "Please don't let his ruin our friendship. I value you, Meg. I couldn't run this place without you."

"Since he's screwing the boss, I guess I have to make nice with him," she said, bitterness still in her voice.

"He's not...we haven't..." She turned back to him quickly.

"You're kidding." Castiel smiled and shook his head.

"No. But that is about to change." With a soft kiss to her cheek, he went over to Dean and took his hand. "Charlie, lock this place up when the beer's gone."

There were several catcalls and whistling when he led Dean into the kitchen. They both grabbed their coats without speaking. When they met by the back door, Castiel took in the sight of Dean in his leather jacket and smiled. "Follow me home."

**One year later...**

Castiel looked at his pocket watch and sighed. Dean was late. He'd told him to meet him at The Russian and he was thirty minutes late. There was no answer when he called on his phone either. Worry creased his forehead. He paced the front, stopping with every turn to look out the window at the empty parking lot.

The lights from the Christmas tree gave the dining room a nice glow. The table set for two held a couple of burning tapers.

Suddenly, music began to play. Castiel knew the controls for the sound system were back by his office. Had Dean come into the back? He recognized the song.

**_I don't want a lot for Christmas_ **  
**_There's just one thing I need_ **  
**_I don't care about the presents_ **  
**_Underneath the Christmas tree_ **

**_I just want you for my own_ **  
**_More than you could ever know_ **  
**_Make my wish come true..._ **  
**_All I want for Christmas_ **  
**_Is you..._ **

Dean pushed through the kitchen doors. He was dressed in a suit for their date. God, he looked incredible. Castiel forgot to be angry. Dean walked across the dining room, taking a moment to look at the only table set in the entire room. "I thought we were going to Lafitte's for a drink before the concert."

"I lied."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him. "That's not nice. Santa will be putting you on the naughty list."

"Santa already thinks I'm naughty," Castiel said, moving towards Dean. He pulled him in for a kiss before steering Dean towards his chair.

He served Dean a perfectly grilled steak and a fluffy baked potato. For dessert, he made Dean's cherry tarts. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me, Chef."

Castiel was suddenly nervous. Dean narrowed his eyes. "Cas, you okay?"

"Yes...no...I love you."

Dean smiled softly. "Hey, I love you too." It was now or never. He stood up and dropped to one knee beside Dean's chair. Dean's eyes widened. Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box.

"I'm so glad I broke the rules, Dean." He extended the box where the gold ring glittered in the white lights from the tree. "Will you marry me."

"God, yes. Yes." Dean pulled Castiel up to his lap and allowed Castiel to put the ring on his finger.

At home, under the tree was a thin, gaily wrapped box that held the documents making Dean a full partner in The Russian. That was for later though. For now, Castiel had all he ever wanted.


End file.
